


The Long Ride Home

by VeraBAdler



Series: October 2018 challenges [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 03:56:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16233722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeraBAdler/pseuds/VeraBAdler
Summary: Cas loves the touring life, but he'd love it even more with his husband in tow.Fictober prompt: “I know you do.”Promptober prompt: Rockstar





	The Long Ride Home

150 miles until he was home.

140 miles until he was home.

Cas watched the distance remaining unspool on his phone as Benny piloted their tour bus along the midnight-quiet highway.

130 miles until he was home.

40 miles until he was home. Oops. Must've dozed off there. He was even more exhausted than he realized. He sighed and stood up to make a final check on his duffel and guitar case. Garth threw a drumstick that whizzed past his ear.

“Cas, chill,” he teased. “Your shit's all packed, your axe is fine, and your sweet little hubby is half an hour away. Sit your ass down and play Candy Crush like a good boy.”

“I uninstalled Candy Crush after last tour,” Cas grumbled in reply. “I'm playing Animal Crossing now. But my flowers are all watered and my campers don't need me.”

“Aww, boo fuckin' hoo, Novak,” Cain growled from the shadows at the back of the bus. “None of us _needs_ you any more. Tour's _over_. You are _surplus to requirements_. What _we all need_ is for you to cease your restless movements, shut your noisy face, and be grateful that your house is our next stop.” Cain was a fantastic bass player, but his patience and people skills always expired about 72 hours before the end of a tour. There had been actual fistfights on the bus in the past as a result of his grouchy needling.

Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor when it came to their bassist, Cas raised his palms in a gesture of surrender and returned to his seat. Cain was right, anyway. This leg of the tour was over, and he was almost home. What lay ahead of him was three blissful months of rest, recuperation, and _Dean_.

The remaining distance disappeared under the wheels of their bus, and the warm lights of his house were finally in front of him. He grabbed his gear and spared a quick nod to his bandmates. (No sentimental farewells necessary; six months stuck nonstop on a bus with those smelly dickheads ensured that no sentiment remained.)

Then he was stepping through his front door and into the arms of his love.

“ _Dean_ ,” he sighed, shoving his nose into his husband's neck and breathing deep. “You didn't need to stay up and wait for me.”

“Of course I did, baby. 'Sides, I didn't stay up, I've been dozing on the couch. How was the drive?”

“Too. Fucking. Long. Took forever, just like the tour. I always miss you _so much_.”

"I know you do. I missed you too, Cas. Skype sessions and text messages are no substitute for wrapping my arms around you. Six months felt like forever.”

“God, I know. I don't wanna keep leaving you like this. You should come on the next leg with me.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, Dean, I've been thinking about this since the show in Seattle. Your shop's doing well, and Charlie and Jo can basically run the place without you now. What do you say you take off for a while and join the crew? Be my tech again? We can pretend it's the old days where I'm the sexy rockstar and you're the handsome roadie and we both pine endlessly for each other until the UST gets too heavy and we crack.” He leaned back from his husband's body to look him in the eyes, a grin on his face. “I'm serious about this. Come with me next time. I don't wanna be apart from you for nine months out of every year. It _sucks_.”

“I'll think about it,” he replied cagily, but Cas could see by his expression that he was liking the idea.

“Yeah? You will? God, that's fucking fantastic. I cannot _wait_ to have you back on the bus with me. We can do it all aboveboard, too – pay you union wages, the whole deal. We'll have to keep the PDA to a minimum around the guys, just so we're not getting on their nerves the whole time. But just think: a different seedy motel room every night, you 'n' me getting down and dirty in thirty cities along the Eastern Seaboard...” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and Dean threw his head back and laughed.

“I said I'd think about it, you pervert. Can we talk about it in the morning? I really wanna take you to bed right now.”

“God, yes. Soon as my head hits that pillow I am gonna _pass out_. And then tomorrow? We're gonna do _all_ those things we talked about on Skype.”

**Author's Note:**

> Rebloggable post for this fic on tumblr is [here](https://blessyourhondahurley.tumblr.com/post/178854677716/october-8-the-long-ride-home-verabadler).


End file.
